Chains Of Steel And Shadow
by Rainchilde
Summary: Morgoth once held Maedhros son of Feanor prisoner. Do you honestly think nothing happened...?


**Chains Of Steel And Shadow  
By Rainchilde (rainchilde_lotr@hotmail.com)**

**Rating:** This chapter is a strong PG-13, but three other chapters (of the six total) are NC-17. To avoid violating FF.net's policy in regards to adult stories, I am ONLY posting this chapter to FF.net. The rest of it is archived at AdultFanfiction.net under the name "Rainchilde." Please come R&R! If you dare. ;)  
**Pairing:** Morgoth/Maedhros, hints of Maedhros/Fingon  
**Warnings:** Graphic rape (though not in this chapter)

**Summary:** Morgoth once held Maedhros son of Feanor prisoner. Do you _honestly_ think nothing happened...?  
**Disclaimer:** All are Tolkien's, though I think (were he still alive) he'd rather I didn't do this.  
**Feedback:** Oh gosh yes. I'm such a whore. :)  
**Archival:** Please, but you must let me know because I want to provide an HTML copy.

**Author's Note:** At first this was supposed to be one piece. Then it became three. Then it became _six_. And somewhere along the way it went from being a simple darkfic (if there's any such beast) to being...well, I almost hesitate to even call it "rapefic." "Violationfic," perhaps. It's about sex, yes, but more to the point it's about power and cruelty and evil that taints everything it touches. I think I scared _myself_ here. _*pats the Feanorian apologetically*_

**Dedication:** Thank you, Alex, for being strong of stomach and kind of opinion. I should also note that some of the visuals in this story were inspired by artwork by the incomparable Hope Hoover. FF.net won't let me post links, but the full version on AFF.net has 'em.

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"But the sons of Feanor [refused to bargain for their brother's life, for they] knew that Morgoth would betray them, and would not release Maedhros, whatsoever they might do; and they were constrained also by their oath, and might not for any cause forsake the war against the Enemy. Therefore Morgoth took Maedhros and hung him from the face of a precipice upon Thangorodrim, and he was caught to the rock by the wrist of his right hand in a band of steel."  
-- "Of The Return Of The Noldor," _The Silmarillion_

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**Part One**

The first time, he said no.

Screamed it, actually. Shouted defiance into the dark god's face, his eyes blazing with the unquenchable fire that was his birthright. He hurt, and he was cold, and he was hungry, but he was the eldest son of Feanor and he would never break. _Never._

The second time, he said no.

Days had passed since the first visit. His trapped right arm had gone numb and his stomach was one great cramped knot of emptiness. If not for the icy rain which lashed the cliffs of Thangorodrim late in the night, he might have perished of thirst by now...but he had not, and he would not yield. He said as much to his tormentor, and his words shook as he spoke, but his jaw was set and his gaze was iron. He would not yield.

The third time, he said no.

Another day and night were gone. His shoulder was now in constant agony and his belly cowered flat against his spine. It had not rained the night before; though part of him appreciated not having to shiver wet in the wind, the rest cried out soundlessly for water... But again he said no, though his voice was low and cracked and all the hate boiling in his heart could not express itself though the weak hiss that was all his throat could provide.

The fourth time, he said nothing at all.

He wanted to. He did. But the enemy stood between his helpless body and the biting wind, and he was so empty and cold that even this small respite was enough to stay his tongue. The sooner he said "no," the sooner he would be abandoned to the elements...and what else did he have?

Nothing. Nothing at all.

The fire in his eyes had sunk to a low ebb; he could not even summon enough strength to growl as a hand slid under his chin and forced it up, forced him to look at his tormentor. His gut twisted at the touch. Though that hand felt like flesh and blood, he knew it was not -- even as he knew that the face before him, that beautiful angelic face, was merely a mask over the yawning void of greed and hate that was Morgoth.

"Have you nothing to say to me?" the Vala rumbled. His voice, too, was perfect. If Maedhros had been attracted to his own gender, he would have been overwhelmed; as it was, he was merely disturbed. What game was the Lord of Lies playing? Did he believe that a Noldorin prince could be fooled by such a shallow falsehood...and one not even to his taste, at that?

He tried to shake his head. There was only one thing to say, and he had not the strength to say it.

Morgoth was silent, waiting, a cruel mockery of saintly patience. They were a study in contrasts: the dark god standing confidently in his strength, all satiny skin and handsome muscles and long glossy-black hair streaming in the wind; his elf hostage hanging limply from one arm, shackled to the cliff-face, sun-burned and wind-torn and dirty. Flame-red locks hung tangled and limp over his lowered left shoulder. Maedhros had been beautiful when he had been captured; now he was but a shadow of the proud princeling who'd led his kin across the sea for vengeance...

Suddenly he was almost warm, for the first time in uncounted days, as a shadow fell across him. He shrank back against the jagged stone. Morgoth was close now, almost close enough to touch, and the thought of touching that false flesh made him want to scream.

Yet that was exactly what the god wanted. Maedhros knew this, because he had said "no" the last three times.

Again he tried to refuse, and again the words died unborn. Even as his mind whirled with rage and terror, his weather-beaten body merely yearned for what scant protection the god's body provided. The wind had faded, and the cold was less severe. More than seemed natural, in fact...

And he was right.

"You do not refuse me outright, and so I give you this." Morgoth spread his hands, and the wind was gone entirely. Maedhros felt oddly numb in the sudden stillness. "A gift of good faith. Accept me, and I will be even more merciful."

"Why?" Maedhros found his voice at last, a low angry rasp. "You tricked me. You kidnapped me under a flag of parley. You hold me hostage when you know my brothers will never grant your demands. You bind me here, you starve me, you gloat over me, and now you think I will let you keep me alive...?!"

He let his head sag back against the rocks, his gaze remote. "I will not. I will be free of you soon. I choose to fade away. That is your Father's gift to my kind, and that you cannot take from me."

Morgoth laughed, and the merry sound fell like a rain of glass shards amid the stones of Thangorodrim.

"You bluff, little prince," he said, almost gently. "Only one of your kind has ever taken that path, and that with the aid of my brother Irmo. Even if the Master of Visions were to hear your plea -- and he might, for he is _so_ soft-hearted -- what do you think awaits you in the world beyond?"

The god smiled, and it was terrible to see. "Have you forgotten so soon? There is blood on your hands, the blood of your own kin. You are under a Doom set by no less than Namo lord of Mandos himself. You will find no welcome in the Halls of Waiting. You will be a lost spirit, a wraith, blown upon the soulwind from the Void...and you will be mine forever."

"That is a lie," Maedhros protested weakly. "He said...he said we could return. M-my father--"

Morgoth shrugged. "Is dead, and lost, never again to be seen in this world or the next. A tragedy. I wanted him for my own." Fingers meandered through Maedhros' tangled red mane, and the elf shuddered. "I suppose I shall have to suffice with his pretty eldest instead.

"Die when you wish. I shall be waiting."

He turned to leave and the wind rose in a pitiless howl, driving tears from Maedhros' eyes even as he squeezed them shut.

"No!" he cried out at last. And this was the same as the three previous times Morgoth had stood before him and asked for what he would not give.

Except this time, "no" was the beginning and not the end.

"No. D-do not leave. I will..." He swallowed hard. At least alive, he had a chance...

Even so, something in his heart broke when he heard his own voice plead, "Tell me what I must do."

  


_...tbc..._

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**A/N:** Yep, terrible things are about to happen. You can either ask me directly for the rest of this story (rainchilde_lotr@hotmail.com) or visit AdultFanfiction.net and get the rest of it by looking under the name "Rainchilde." Thanks!


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